Harry Potter V
by PinkyElf
Summary: Harry Potter stumbles upon some unpleasant truths of his past, present, and future. PLEASE read and review! :)
1. Chapter 1

~1~  
  
The night pressed hard against his eyeballs. Harry Potter strained through his glasses to see his transfiguration homework clearly. It was near the crack of dawn. He noticed that Dudley's snores had quieted down, and Aunt Petunia had begun fidgeting, making her bed creak beneath her. Harry always dreaded the morning. The evening was his escape back to the magical world. The world he liked to think of as his real home.  
  
He reluctantly pulled his glasses off, shut his book, blew the candle out and let his body pull him into a deep slumber, only to be awakened by Aunt Petunia's never ceasing raps on the door an hour later. Harry forced his aching body to stretch out a leg in 5-sizes too big pants and place his foot on the floor. The cool breeze of air conditioning floated out of the vent and over the top of his foot, sending chills up and down his spine, yet helping in waking him up. As Harry trudged slowly down the stairs to start cooking breakfast, he could hear Aunt Petunia waking Dudley up in the next room.  
  
"Wake up, Duddykins. I know, it's early, but my sweet baby has a busy day today," how she could call the thing that was beginning to resemble a small hippo a sweet baby, Harry never understood.  
  
That morning, the Dursleys were going to shop for their vacation in the Bahamas. They were to leave Number Four of Privet Drive and Harry with Arabella Figg, the old lady that lived down the street. Of course Harry didn't adore his visits with Mrs. Figg, but almost anything was better than being with the Dursleys.  
  
Harry rushed through making breakfast that morning so he could write back to Hermione and Ron. But Dudley always did everything he could to upset Harry. So, he claimed his bacon was overcooked, and wanted Harry to start over.  
  
"Boy, where do you think you are going?" Uncle Vernon paused from his morning paper to look up at Harry. Harry paused as he was just about to leave the kitchen and rush upstairs. "You haven't even eaten the pastry your Aunt Petunia so graciously made for us today! You ungrateful little..." his beady eyes bulged.  
  
Everything about Harry got him upset, from the way he talked to the way he breathed.  
  
Harry had to sit through breakfast and listen to Uncle Vernon's barks about the drill factory and Dudley's complaints about everything he could think about.  
  
Harry had been starving and was glad he ate, but he was even more anxious to write Ron and Hermione, whom he hadn't heard from all summer. As soon as he began climbing the stairs, the doorbell rang.  
  
"Harry, boy, get the door!" Uncle Vernon boomed from the kitchen.  
  
He walked back down the stairs and opened the door to find old Mrs. Figg standing there.  
  
"Hello Harry dear, are you all packed?" 


	2. Chapter 2

~2~  
  
"Oh, Mrs. Figg, we think it's wonderful of you to watch Harry here. We weren't expecting you until later though," Aunt Petunia welcomed Mrs. Figg in. The strong stench of cats followed her.  
  
"Well, this old woman has some things to do later this day and couldn't find time to pick Harry up later. I hope this isn't an inconvenience."  
  
"Oh, nonsense! There's no problem at all," Harry knew Aunt Petunia would never refuse getting rid of Harry even sooner  
  
"Well then, go get your things dear," Mrs. Figg stretched her wrinkly lips into a sweet, endearing smile. Harry had always thought it strange for Mrs. Figg, a muggle, to treat him so nicely.  
  
Harry walked to his room and began packing his things. He hoped he'd still be able to write Ron and Hermione at Mrs. Figg's. It took him long enough to pack all of his scattered quills, parchment, ink, books, and clothing. Once he had all of his possessions packed into his trunk, he grabbed Hedwig's cage.  
  
"We're going to Mrs. Figg's house. Behave yourself, alright?" Harry grabbed a piece of carrot and fed it to her. She nipped his finger affectionately. He placed her cage on top of the trunk and carefully dragged it down the stairs. Mrs. Figg and Aunt Petunia were sitting in the parlor sipping tea. Aunt Petunia glanced up at Harry.  
  
"You're sure that you don't mind Harry bring his pet bird..errr... what was its name again, Harry?" Aunt Petunia looked appalled at the sight of Hedwig.  
  
"Hedwig," he snapped.  
  
"OOhhh, no, of course I don't mind! I love birds, all animals really!" Mrs. Figg pushed herself off of her chair and began walking towards Harry. "Here dear, let me help you with that," Harry was shocked as she picked up Hedwig's cage and bravely put her finger in. Hedwig would have usually gone nuts if someone did this, but she just closed her eyes and let Mrs. Figg stroke her snowy feathers.  
  
"Behave yourself, boy," Mr. Vernon stood sternly in the hallway casting Harry a dangerous look. Dudley stood behind him casting rude and nasty faces.  
  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about this dear; he won't be any trouble at all!" Mrs. Figg said her goodbyes and Harry simply gave his family a flat smile.  
  
It was a nice day outside as the two of them walked down Privet Drive, surely looking very odd, for a jogging couple passing them looked shocked at the sight of an old woman carrying a snowy owl in a cage next to a young boy carrying a large black trunk. Mrs. Figg looked towards them, then continued walking forward, looking towards her house on the next block.  
  
"Muggles..." she muttered, her familiar smile spreading across her face. She glanced at Harry, whose face was overcome with awe. 


	3. Chapter 3

~3~  
  
Harry couldn't believe his ears, but he eventually realized that she had said muggle. A thousand questions surfaced in his brain all at once, but all that came from his mouth was silence. She kept her smile on her face and continued walking as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Figg looked eventually stopped walking, looked at him and giggled. He couldn't talk, he couldn't even think. Standing there smiling only lasted until the sound of thunder crashed so hard that they both felt it vibrate through their rib cages. The once sunny sky was quickly being covered by dark gray clouds rumbling in.  
  
"We'll talk later. We should pick up the pace and get to my house, quickly," her smile quickly vanished and her facial expression was replaced by a worried, solemn look. Harry just did as he was told.  
  
It began raining on them. The rain smacked their cheeks and dripped down their necks. Once they were inside Mrs. Figg's house their clothes were drenched and their cheeks rose red. She whipped out her wand and magicked her fireplace on, Harry's things upstairs, and their clothes dry.  
  
"Don't look at me like that Harry, dear, you surely must have known Dumbledore wouldn't leave you here in the muggle world with only the Dursleys," the thought had crossed Harry's mind a few times, but it never occurred to him that poor old Mrs. Figg could be a witch. Now, he wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it. Strangers were the only ones nice to him, and they were obviously witches and wizards, them and Mrs. Figg. "Take a seat, it'll come to you. I'll go get some snacks, I'm sure those Dursleys don't feed you well, hmmm?" She whisked off into the kitchen, now with a younger, more confident stride. She walked a way Harry had never seen her walk before.  
  
He sat down in the plush, red velvet seat. It was very comfortable, and warm, since it was positioned right next to the fire. The fire she had in her room filled with antique, beautiful things was like none other he had ever seen. The tips squeaked each time they licked the air. He put his head closer and something jumped out and flew into the air with a zzziiiippp sound. Harry pulled his head back quickly. Mrs. Figg walked into the room.  
  
"Fire demons, the name doesn't suit them, they're the sweetest little things," she placed the tray on a table between Harry's and her chair.  
  
"So, you've been here to...protect me from Voldemort... or other Dark Wizards since I was young? Dumbledore sent you?" she laughed politely at his curiosity.  
  
"Yes, yes, not so much Voldemort, but just evil in general. You're a very special boy, Harry. We have to keep you safe," Harry helped himself to some milk, sweet chewy mints, and ginger snap cookies as he looked at her with admiration. She was one of the few people he had ever known to say Voldemort's name. 


	4. Chapter 4

~4~  
  
Harry and Mrs. Figg sat talking about Harry's summer and how horrid the Dursleys were while the fire continued to hiss, squeal, and even explode into a shimmering array of something similar to a finale of fireworks.  
  
"Hmm... the boy did seem a little round about the middle!" Mrs. Figg joked to Harry as their conversation on Dudley continued. A sly grin and twinkle took comfort in her face as she gazed at Harry. "I believe somebody has a birthday coming up soon," Harry found himself blushing; he was surprised that she would bring this up when his own flesh and blood barely remembered it.  
  
Mrs. Figg hurried off to another room to leave Harry to be entertained by the fireplace. When she came back, she was carrying so many parcels that the top of her white head barely showed over the bundle.  
  
"Mind, only one is from me. I requested all of your friends to have their owls bring your gifts here. I thought you'd like to open them all at once," Harry greedily put down his glass of milk and began towards the pile. Mrs. Figg laughed to herself and began sipping her glass.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught embers of green. He turned his head; the once fiery red flames had turned an odd, yet painfully familiar, tint of green. Harry heard Mrs. Figg's cup shatter on the floor.  
  
"Well, we'd be best off if we left, Harry, you can always unwrap your gifts later," he turned to face Mrs. Figg and found the treats gone, the spilt milk cleaned, and his trunk, cage, and parcels neatly together next to the door. 


	5. Chapter 5

~5~  
  
The wind was harsh and stung them with cold breaths. The rain felt like ice daggers upon their uncovered hands and necks. Hedwig was obviously frightened. She squawked loudly every time thunder struck.  
  
"Maybe you better let her out. I think she'd find herself more comfortable," Harry barely could hear Mrs. Figg as the wind whipped her words away as soon as they prevailed from her thin lips. Reluctantly, Harry unlatched her cage, and she flew off, showing brightly against the swirls of gray clouds. "She'll know where to go!" Mrs. Figg shouted to Harry. Harry realized that he didn't even know where they were going, or why they were going there.  
  
Mrs. Figg pulled her wand out of her damp robe and was just about to utter a spell, but the ivory wand slipped out of her slick hands and fell with a crack to the sidewalk. Harry noticed her urgency and intentions, well somewhat. He grabbed his wand, pointed it upwards and uttered "Lumos!" A large purple double Decker bus screeched to a halt in front of them. Mrs. Figg grabbed the remains of her wand from the pavement as the doors opened.  
  
Harry heard the words of cheery fellow he had met before, "Ern! ERN! Guess 'oo it is!" 


	6. Chapter 6

~6~  
  
The young fellow grabbed their things and hauled it on board the Knight Bus.  
  
"ERN! It's 'Arry Potter!" he shouted at the bus driver as he panted.  
  
"Well, I'll be, Stan, that isn't Harry Potter! This lad's name is Neville Longbottom," he winked at Harry, and Harry quickly smiled back, remembering the first time he had ever traveled on the Knight Bus. Stan and Ernie offered them free hot chocolate because of the bad weather.  
  
"We should be heading to bed soon, though, for we have much a longer day ahead of us than I anticipated, Harry," she shivered and accepted the two hot chocolates, passing one to Harry as she gulped hers down her wrinkly throat.  
  
Harry felt the magical concoction of hot cocoa slide down his throat and tingle all the way down to his toes, warming his blood.  
  
During their ride on the Knight Bus, Harry spent time entertaining Stan with answers to his many questions about the Tri-Wizard Cup while Mrs. Figg chattered with a man she had known when he was younger and most likely less green in the face. Stan nervously whispered that he heard rumors about the return of You-Know-Who, and anxiously asked Harry if they were true as he twitched uncontrollably.  
  
Mrs. Figg turned around and answered for Harry, "Voldemort, return to power? You must know that he is now not even what could be considered a living creature. You must be joking, my dear boy! Little Harry saw the last of him 15 years ago. There should be no reason for you to worry," and she ended it in a notation as so to signal that the conversation was over, no more questions to be asked.  
  
Harry would have liked to have told Stan the truth, but knew Mrs. Figg had said what she did so as to not worry him. Even though Harry didn't know Stan very well, he did know that he was a very excitable man.  
  
"You better rest up, then, Harry," Stan winked at him and ran to the second level of the bus as a quiet bell somewhere rang.  
  
Harry tried to go to sleep, but he was too excited. He was happy about spending the rest of the summer without the Dursleys, although thoughts of Voldemort should have been scaring him. As soon as Harry was beginning to drift off, he noticed something on the night stand. He glanced over to the bed next to his to see Mrs. Figg in deep slumber, snoring lightly.  
  
Harry picked up the paper on the nightstand, it was the Daily Prophet. On the first page was an article entitled Return of the Dark Lord? The article went over the recent events of oddities reported by both Muggles and Witches and Wizards. Many suspicious figures in dark cloaks had been seen just "hanging" around. Muggles link it to "the bad influence of music on our youth's fashion choices". But the Daily Prophet reporter, Lars Plunnelle, developed it as a Death Eater story as much as he could.  
  
Before putting the paper down, Harry scanned all of the stories for anything by Rita Skeeter. She must be too embarrassed to return to work and risk her reputation. Harry doubted it that Hermione would have still kept that Skeeter woman in a jar this long. Although, the thought did humor him.  
  
Unfortunately, it didn't humor Harry enough to keep him from going to sleep that night a bit more scared than he had been before he had read the article in the Prophet. 


	7. Chapter 7

~7~  
  
Harry stirred as the Knight Bus pulled to a screeching halt. He heard Stan stuttering nearby.  
  
" 'Ello there! How would you like a bit of hot chocolate, on us, for your..." Stan suddenly stopped talking, but Harry could hear him still breathing heavily. Harry glanced over to Mrs. Figg's bed, where she was no longer snoring, but lying stiff as a board. He thought he heard her "sshhh" him, but he wasn't sure.  
  
A tall figure in a dark cloak stepped into the aisle and started walking slowly, each footstep thudding loudly on the purple carpet. Harry closed his eyes, in an attempt to appear as if he was sleeping. The footsteps stopped, and peering through his squinted eyes, Harry saw the figure at the foot of his bed. In a harsh attempt to keep his breathing under control, he found his chest aching and trembling.  
  
To his relief, the figures continued, and eventually, he heard them walking upstairs. Mrs. Figg quietly and quickly jumped out of her bed, wand ready by her side, already repaired. Harry did the same and began towing his trunk to the door. Stan stood still, his lower lip shaking slightly, his eyes transfixed on some uncertain point behind them. Mrs. Figg paid them 20 sickles over in her haste, or maybe out of goodness.  
  
"Take good care of yourselves," she whispered and whisked out of the purple Knight Bus. Harry jumped out onto the dirt. It squished underneath his old tennis shoes.  
  
He had no idea where they were. It was a vast expanse of grass and trees in the distance at the end of the dirt path in one direction. Mrs. Figg and Harry both turned to look in the other direction. At the end, far off, was a little village glowing softly against the rough, majestic forest. 


	8. Chapter 8

~8~  
  
For a moment, Harry felt uneasy about walking up to a strange, seemingly deserted village. Mrs. Figg looked as if she had her doubts too. She tapped her bony finger on her chin, her other hand resting patiently on her waist.  
  
"Cole village. my wonderful friend, Agatha, revived me from a bermstreng sting once. She conjured up the remedy quick as a jack rabbit. Come along then, Harry," she picked up the pace, striding towards Cole village.  
  
Once they got closer, Harry noticed the cozy houses all packed closely together. Most houses were cottages, a few with two stories here and there. Welcoming candles lit all of the windows; that must have been where the glow came from. Shadows of the homes were cast upon the visage of the forest.  
  
The dirt beneath their feet became drier as it crunched softly beneath their steps, and the air began to warm, embracing them.  
  
Cole Village was peaceful and quiet. There was an exception for the old man sitting outside his house, on his barrel, playing an odd instrument resembling a fife.  
  
A mysterious, sleepy tune swam through the air. A two-story building stand in front of them, two candles sticking out of their holdings attached to the walls on either side of the door.  
  
Mrs. Figg walked inside and rang a small bell sitting on a desk that chimed throughout the building. 


	9. Chapter 9

~9~  
  
A tall woman with dark curls bounding from her head, swooping to her knees walked, or glided, in. "Welcome to the Cole Inn, how many nights shall both of you be staying?"  
  
"We'll be staying only one night and leaving in the early morning. Do you have a fireplace hooked up to the Floo Network?"  
  
"There is a fireplace in each of our rooms here at the Inn, all hooked up to the Floo Network. Here is your key, you are in room one, at the top of the stairs, first door to the left. Enjoy your stay at the Cole Inn," the woman paused as an invitation for any questions, smiled, and exited, gliding the way she had entered.  
  
The hallway upstairs was lined with candles that reflected light onto the striped wallpaper. Mrs. Figg had trouble opening the door with the rusty key, but after both Harry and she gave the door a good push, it gave way.  
  
Mrs. Figg's was wide awake, but laid down on the bed and said her goodnights to Harry, forcing her body to rest. Harry would have done the same, but after lying for a few moments in the bed, the warm air pulsating from outside, through the window, lured him to it. Harry sat himself in an antique chair and scoot it toward the window. The forest was enchanting, soothing.  
  
It was odd how soon it changed to dark and terrifying with the rustle of something. Then twigs were breaking. A dark figure poked its head out of some leaves then pulled back. Harry sat up and leaned over out of the window to see what it was. He had a headache, he decided he should go to bed soon.  
  
The movement stopped. Harry grew more tired and his headache more powerful. He turned his head to look back at Mrs. Figg, lying peacefully. He felt a hot breath upon his forehead and turned back to face outside the window.  
  
Harry found himself face to face with the Lord Voldemort floating outside the window, unicorn blood dripping from his grinning mouth. Harry's forehead singed, and his body lurched with uncontrollable fear as Voldemort's demonic laugh filled his ears. 


	10. Chapter 10

~10~  
  
Harry's stomach became unsettled with a cold nausea. All of the candles went out with Voldemort's laugh, making it even darker than it had already been.  
  
The trees could barely be made out, the only thing Harry could see clearly was Voldemort's pale, evil face glowing in the smothering dark.  
  
The Dark Lord raised his eerie thin hand and outstretched his long fingers towards Harry's head, smiling as to reveal his wicked intentions. His hand outstretched began slashing slowly down Harry's forehead, to intensify the pain to an unbearable degree. Voldemort's fingernails tore at Harry's skin.  
  
Harry found himself unable to move. Flecks of blood clouded his glasses first, but then, his blood flowed down his face in streams, getting into his eyes.  
  
Harry continually blinked to get the blood out, but more and more rushed downward. He squeezed them shut as the blood kept gushing and screamed out in horror, pain, and helplessness.  
  
"Harry, HARRY! What is wrong??" Harry opened his eyes.  
  
The trees outside were tranquilly swaying with the warm summer breeze. Voldemort wasn't in sight. His scar still pained him slightly, but it was nothing compared to what he had just experienced. Harry put his hand to his forehead, it was perfectly intact, besides his usual scar. He had been dreaming.  
  
He turned around to face Mrs. Figg, who was sitting up straight, eyes wide in concern. "Nothing, nothing, I just had a dream," Harry knew it was just a dream, well a nightmare, but it had felt so real. He shut the window in frustration, and locked it just to be sure.  
  
"Voldemort? I feel a dark presence in this village. Though, I doubt it that- " she was interrupted by a hurried ringing of a bell downstairs. Mrs. Figg pressed her finger to her pursed lips and stepped gently out of bed.  
  
The usually creaky floor made no sound under her weight. She opened the door with ease so that a crack allowed her to peek downstairs. Mrs. Figg shut the door quickly and spun around, locking it shut behind her.  
  
Pulling her deep purple cloak over her nightdress, she flicked her want to magick some Floo Powder from a dish into the flames of the already burning fire. The fire turned into light green dancing flames.  
  
Harry's trunk appeared in the fireplace and she rushed Harry himself into it himself. "Go to the Burrow, I'll be right here after you," she hurriedly instructed him, her hands frantically shewing him.  
  
Just as he shouted "The Burrow!", he saw a glimpse of the door being broke through by tall figures in dark robes, covering their faces. Mrs. Figg turned her head, and then Harry was rushing through a whirl of green flames and fireplaces, elbows tucked in tightly at his sides, his trunk wobbling slightly at his side. 


	11. Chapter 11

~11~  
  
The rushing green flames and fireplaces stopped, and the Weasley's living room came into focus as Harry landed in their fireplace with a jolt. It was dark, there were no lights, and the usually busy home was quiet except for the goblin in the attic gently hitting the pipes. Harry found an interesting array of things on the floor.  
  
Quidditch Monthly on a seat next to Ron's chess set with the Wisbourne Wasps flying around, a crumbling cookie, a Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration; Volume II, and some of Fred and George's order forms cleverly tucked away in a hand-me-down Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts book.  
  
He wasn't sure what he should do, and Harry was worried about Mrs. Figg. He thought he should wake up the Weasleys, but didn't want to startle them. Did they even know he was coming? He guessed someone would be waiting for him if the did know, but the first floor was completely empty.  
  
Harry sat on the couch for a half an hour watching the Weasley's clock. All of the hands were pointed to home. Minutes came, and minutes passed, still no Mrs. Figg. There was a soft tap, tap, tap at the backdoor, he looked out of it to see Hedwig fluttering around on the patio. He slid it open and squeezed out, trying to be quiet as possible. Harry found comfort in a chair and decided he should sleep there. He didn't want to have one of the Weasley twins walk in on him sleeping on the couch in the morning and curse him to death, mistaking him for an intruder. 


	12. Chapter 12

~12~  
  
Despite his attempts, he was awoken by a few feeble jinxes, not from the Weasley twins. Ginny had woke up early, because it was her turn to rid the garden of gnomes. The Weasleys had realized the best time to do this was in the morning, an hour after sunrise.  
  
When Ginny saw Harry, she didn't recognize him, and just went berserk with her wand. After she did cursed Harry, her cheeks turned the darkest shade of crimson Harry had ever seen. Of course, it woke up the whole house.  
  
The Weasleys didn't mind, but it left both Ginny and Harry a little shaken. They laughed about it over Mrs. Weasley's homemade eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, marmalade, honey butter, fruit-filled pastries, buttermilk pancakes, fried potatoes, and spice juice.  
  
"Harry, dear, we weren't expecting you until later tonight. Where is Mrs. Figg?" Mrs. Weasley inquired as she used her want to butter toast and transport it to the table.  
  
He told them all about Cole Village and the Death Eaters both there and on the Knight Bus. He included his rushed escape by fireplace. All the while, Ginny was on the edge of her chair, and Ron gaped. Harry didn't mention the dream, didn't want the Weasley twins chanting that he was off his rocker. He wasn't sure if he was off his rocker or not, all he was sure about was that the dreams stopped.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry, if any of those Death Eaters comes near you, we'll knock bludgers through their heads, right George?" George nodded, and Fred winked at Harry. Harry gave a weak smile, but, Mrs. Weasley didn't find it amusing.  
  
"FRED! That's NOT funny! That's just...just...HORRIBLE! Not something to joke about, AT ALL!" catching Harry's eye she added quickly, "Those terrible Death Eaters wouldn't dare come near Harry," she shrieked at him.  
  
Harry tried to let her know that he didn't mind, but she wouldn't hear a word of it. After she cooled down, and Fred had begun playing with his food again, Mrs. Weasley insured Harry that she was sure Mrs. Figg was fine, but that she'd have Mr. Weasley look into it.  
  
"Arthur left early this morning, earlier than Ginny woke up. The office is swamped with...err... minor problems," she tried to remain calm and collected, but she could hear a quavering hint to her voice. "I'll try to get a hold of him today, but I'm sure Arabella can take care of herself. Why don't you take Harry to settle his things into his room?" she looked at Ron, who had been unusually quiet that morning.  
  
Fred and George stood up. "Not you two, I need to talk to you both," she smiled at Harry and made sure he was full. Walking up the rickety stairs, Ron in front of him, carrying the front handle to help Harry's trunk to his room, Harry heard Mrs. Weasley going mad at the twins.  
  
"You boys! You are NEVER to joke about something like that in front of Harry again!! Never joke about it at ALL! There's no need to be making Harry scared!" Harry felt himself go red in the cheeks, he hadn't been scared. "But, Mum.-," But she just silenced Fred. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You don't KNOW. You don't know the impact of fear that the He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can have on a person! Especially when rumors about his return are fluttering about! You just don't understand! And I pray you'll never have to..." there was silence. Ron opened the door to his room. 


	13. Chapter 13

~13~  
  
Harry's welcome to the Burrow wasn't what he had hoped for, he didn't find ease or comfort. It was too tense. Ron helped to make thing feel better though. "I think you're gonna stay the whole summer! It'll be great. Fred and George have made loads of more tricks for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Mind not to let Mum know, she's fed up with them. They played chicken on their broomsticks and George fell off of his. That didn't stop the broom from still flying. It ended up in a muggle woman's bird bath," he smoothened out a poster of the Chudley Cannons on the wall.  
  
"The broom was fine, and the Ministry erased her mind and all, but Mum keeps going on about how it's their last year at Hogwarts, they need to start acting their age. She's afraid they're wasting their minds on foolish things. It's not that foolish though. If only she knew they had made quite a profit this year with selling Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to Hogwarts students. Can you believe they made over a thousand galleons?!?!" Harry smiled to himself. He never told Ron he had given Fred and George his winnings from the TriWizard Tournament.  
  
After unpacking and settling all of Harry's things, they decided to go outside and play Quidditch. Harry and Ron went to the twins' room to ask if they'd like to play too, but no one answered when they knocked. Ginny was downstairs reading a book, Mrs. Weasley had relieved her of her gnome duties due to the special circumstances. She eagerly joined them, beaming brightly up at Harry. Ginny stayed on the ground as Harry and Ron kept switching brooms, Ron really liked riding the Firebolt. She threw the worn quaffle into the air and the first one to catch it was awarded 10 points. Generally, whoever was riding the Firebolt got the quaffle. Ron did a few flips in the air, then got an idea.  
  
"I'll be right back!" he ran off to the Burrow. He wasn't gone long, but in that time, Harry gave Ginny a short flying lesson. She wasn't that bad, she had some talent, but Ginny got frightened when she went too fast or high on the Firebolt. She preferred Fred's more slowly paced Comet Two-Sixty.  
  
When Ron came back, he threw something that resembled a gray tennis ball into the air which Harry soon recognized as Pig. It was fun chasing, catching, and throwing Pig around. Though it wasn't a challenge, as he liked to zoom dangerously close past your head, they all laughed and had a blast. The continuing day turned out to be much better than the morning had promised. 


	14. Chapter 14

~14~  
  
The sky began to turn a thin shade of dark blue as dusk set in. That day had been great fun, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all exhausted. Harry heard strange noises escaping from inside of the Weasley house, but Ron and Ginny kept insisting that they didn't hear anything.  
  
It was beginning to sprinkle sharp rain. Ginny wrapped a large purple cloak around herself, but it kept slipping off, because the clasps had worn down and didn't exactly work. Ron and her complexion had turned an ever paler shade and tips of their noses had been so stung by the rain, they had turned to almost the color of their bright fire red hair. Ron consistently checked his watch, but tried to be inconspicuous about it, but to no avail. He was very obvious about it, and Harry wondered how anybody would be able to not notice. Once Pig fluttered to the ground and began wheezing feverently, they knew it was time to go inside.  
  
They trudged tiredly across the long yard, their shoes slipping across the sleek grass. Ginny slipped and fell onto the ground. She got mud in her hair and began to cry about it. Ron found it very difficult to muffle his laughter, and this made Ginny even more so upset. She recovered in a short while when she became aware again that Harry was in her presence.  
  
The lawn gnomes at the Weasleys seemed to love the rain. They glided atop the blades of grass and held their mouths open to catch the rain drops. The gnomes then engaged in a somewhat violent game of water wars, as they squirted spouts of it out of their ears, nostrils, and mouths at an opposing gnome. When they were struck, they squeaked painfully and fell to the ground where they remain motionless for only a short time.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Ginny were very amused by this and found themselves laughing outrageously at the stupid gnomes. The gnomes likewise, took their activity very seriously and became enraged at Harry and the two Weasleys. Jets of rain squirted from their tiny heads with fierce force and were being shot at them. They ran from the gnomes toward the Burrow, still doubled up with laughter.  
  
It had gotten very dark by that time, and things were very hard to see. The gnomes had given up on their battles with rain and began attacking the feet of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They kept tripping, and by the time they were approaching the Burrow, all of them were dripping with wet earth. Their spirits were lightened though, and they were filled with an excited energy as they hadn't been when they left the Quidditch field.  
  
The Burrow glowed warmly, and Harry couldn't wait until he got inside. They tried their best to remove the filth from their clothes and hair, but most of the mud wouldn't let go. When they stepped inside, Harry couldn't believe his eyes. ~13~  
  
Harry's welcome to the Burrow wasn't what he had hoped for, he didn't find ease or comfort. It was too tense. Ron helped to make thing feel better though. "I think you're gonna stay the whole summer! It'll be great. Fred and George have made loads of more tricks for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Mind not to let Mum know, she's fed up with them. They played chicken on their broomsticks and George fell off of his. That didn't stop the broom from still flying. It ended up in a muggle woman's bird bath," he smoothened out a poster of the Chudley Cannons on the wall.  
  
"The broom was fine, and the Ministry erased her mind and all, but Mum keeps going on about how it's their last year at Hogwarts, they need to start acting their age. She's afraid they're wasting their minds on foolish things. It's not that foolish though. If only she knew they had made quite a profit this year with selling Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to Hogwarts students. Can you believe they made over a thousand galleons?!?!" Harry smiled to himself. He never told Ron he had given Fred and George his winnings from the TriWizard Tournament.  
  
After unpacking and settling all of Harry's things, they decided to go outside and play Quidditch. Harry and Ron went to the twins' room to ask if they'd like to play too, but no one answered when they knocked. Ginny was downstairs reading a book, Mrs. Weasley had relieved her of her gnome duties due to the special circumstances. She eagerly joined them, beaming brightly up at Harry. Ginny stayed on the ground as Harry and Ron kept switching brooms, Ron really liked riding the Firebolt. She threw the worn quaffle into the air and the first one to catch it was awarded 10 points. Generally, whoever was riding the Firebolt got the quaffle. Ron did a few flips in the air, then got an idea.  
  
"I'll be right back!" he ran off to the Burrow. He wasn't gone long, but in that time, Harry gave Ginny a short flying lesson. She wasn't that bad, she had some talent, but Ginny got frightened when she went too fast or high on the Firebolt. She preferred Fred's more slowly paced Comet Two-Sixty.  
  
When Ron came back, he threw something that resembled a gray tennis ball into the air which Harry soon recognized as Pig. It was fun chasing, catching, and throwing Pig around. Though it wasn't a challenge, as he liked to zoom dangerously close past your head, they all laughed and had a blast. The continuing day turned out to be much better than the morning had promised. 


	15. Chapter 15

~15~  
  
The kitchen table was decorated with a bright red and gold trimmed cloth, and in the middle of it was a large beautiful birthday cake decorated with candy snitches and icing-drawn broomsticks. On top was a candle of a Quidditch player with the wick sticking out of its head whizzing barely over the top of the cake in a circular route.  
  
Cornish pixies floated in the corners of the room and above the table holding sparkling lanterns which emitted silent showers of sparks every few seconds. These pixies were much more controlled than those that Professor Lockhart had released on his second year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. Harry chuckled bemusedly to himself.  
  
Aside from the cake, the pixies, the other amazing decorations, and the astonishingly large pile of parcels near the lit fireplace, Harry recognized many of his friends in the room. All nine of the Weasleys, Hermione, Hagrid, and Mrs. Figg stood beaming around the room.  
  
"Happy Birthday Harry," they all congratulated him cheerfully. He couldn't help from letting a huge smile spread across his face. It was perfect. He could only think of one more thing that could make it even more perfect, and then he came in. Snuffles walked in behind Percy and transfigured into Harry's favorite godfather. 


	16. Chapter 16

~16~  
  
Mrs. Weasley's complexion turned a paler tint for a moment and her face was frozen, until Mr. Weasley gave her a soft nudge in the side. Sirius winked at Harry.  
  
The cake Mrs. Weasley had conjured up earlier that day was even more delicious, if possible, than it looked. Harry got to keep the animated Quidditch player. Everybody had a wonderful time. With the exception of Mrs. Weasley, who seemed slightly edgy about Sirius's presence, but after a while, she began to warm up to him, and offered him a seventh serving of her brilliant cake.  
  
Mrs. Figg entertained the table with the story of her escape from the Death Eaters in Cole Village, and everybody sat on the edge of their chairs as she recaptured the moment in which she was outnumbered by four of them and her life was in danger. If it weren't for a clever slowing charm she had learned from an ancient Felkish man, she might not have escaped. She used her wit in adding a few clever puns so as to lighten the serious mood of the situation.  
  
"Oooh, now to the best part of any birthday," Fred winked at Harry as the towering pile of presents drifted onto the table and the birthday cake magically disappeared. George quickly added, "With the exception of Mum's bloody brilliant cake". Mrs. Weasley seemed indifferent to George's comment and was hastily throwing away napkins and magicking dishes into the sink..  
  
Hermione, sitting next to Harry, handed him his first present. 


	17. Chapter 17

~17~  
  
Even after all of their stomachs were full and all the presents had been unwrapped, they were all still filled with energy and joy. This was one of the greatest days of Harry's life. They all decided it would be a good idea to take Fred and George's present to Harry, a large collection of Dr Filibuster's No-Heat Wet-Start Fireworks to Stoatshead Hill.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was the last to be persuaded it was a grand idea, "And what if MUGGLES see us???" But, seeing everybody's excitement over the idea, she exasperatedly gave up with dramatic sigh. It was even difficult for her to smuggle her smile.  
  
They didn't have to walk this time, and for this, Harry was thankful. The Weasleys had bought Hollister's Fun, Safe, and Fast Travel Broom, for life without the Ford Anglia was far less convenient. All of the younger children of the Weasley children, a long with Charlie who drove, rode this broom. Harry and Hermione rode the Firebolt. All of the older wizards and witches apparated. Percy showed off by going back and forth between Stoatshead and the Burrow pretending he kept forgetting a shoe or a watch.  
  
Hermione kept insisting that Harry go slower, in her fear of falling off. So, after only 3 minutes, Hermione and Ron switched brooms. Harry found Ron to be far more of a pleasure of company, as he encouraged Harry's daring and speedy flying. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut every time they tried the Wronski Feint, and Hermione rolled her eyes and pretended to be indifferent to whether they crashed or not, even though she jumped every time they neared the soggy ground.  
  
Upon reaching Stoatshead Hill, they realized that they'd forgotten the Filibuster's Fireworks, and surprisingly, Percy was the first to offer to go back to the Burrow and get them. Sirius pulled Harry to the side, and once Percy came back, everybody else became occupied with starting the Fireworks.  
  
Sirius handed Harry a small, but nicely wrapped gold and purple parcel with a sparkling silver ribbon on top. Harry was dumbfounded that he hadn't realized that Sirius's present was absent at his celebration, he concluded his mind must have been clouded by the immense amounts of joy.  
  
"Go ahead, open it," Sirius smiled down on Harry in an almost fatherly type of manner. Harry carefully opened the parcel, afraid to damage the beautiful wrapping. He gently placed the torn paper into his cloak pocket and found a small black case with a golden clasp. He unlatched it and opened it to find a golden snitch.  
  
Its wings flapped enthusiastically as Harry picked it up.  
  
"Careful there, Harry, that ones a toughie!" Sirius winked at him and signaled for Harry to look at the other side of the Snitch.  
  
Engraved on its golden side was "Potter" in a fancy writing.  
  
"It was your fathers- probably his most famous possession. It's been in you family for years, Quidditch is in your blood, Harry." Harry's jaw fell and his stomach twinged in a strangely sad and happy manner.  
  
There was only one thing to do. Harry hugged Sirius around the middle and Sirius hugged him back, patting him gently on the back. 


	18. Chapter 18

~18~  
  
Purple, green, yellow, red, blue, orange, pink, gold, and silver sparks danced around the night sky in interesting shapes. Sometimes when a single raindrop would collide with one of the sparks, there would be a faint sizzling sound and a cloud of purple smoke rose. Everybody danced around, their shoes sloshing around in the mud- but nothing could lessen their spirit.  
  
Harry and Sirius returned just in time for the grand finale. Everybody stood in a circle around the flaming, squealing, wizzing fireworks. Opposite Harry was Mrs. Figg who looked up in the sky at the Fireworks, a simple sort of childlike wonder beamed in her eyes. The explosions sent showers of sparks flying down on them. When they hit Harry's skin, he felt a cold sort of friendly tickle.  
  
All of the Weasleys, Mrs. Figg, Harry, Sirius, and Hagrid were sad to see the rest of the fireworks go, as Fred and George checked to see if all were set off. They began picking up the burnt shards of paper, everybody pitched in to help, not that it wasn't fun in itself. Some of the pieces of paper had some life left in them and whizzed colorfully out of their grasps.  
  
Fred and George thought it would have been funny to put a piece in Ginny's long fire red hair, and as could have been expected, Mrs. Weasley did not. The whizzing paper didn't hurt or even scare Ginny. It merely tickled here ear as it flew past. Mrs. Weasley, indifferent to this factor, screeched at the boys, and demanded they go home and straight to bed.  
  
"We've come here in celebration of Harry's Birthday, and you two have to RUIN it! You always RUIN EVERYHING!" they quietly walked down the hill and into the distance. The novelty of cleaning the fireworks had worn off, and everybody was quiet. Harry and Ginny both would have said something to Mrs. Weasley in regards that they didn't mind, but the darting look in her eyes resembled the look of the menacing Hungarian Horntail, so they decided better to keep silent.  
  
The omniscent silence continued from Stoatshead Hill up until the Burrow became visible in the moonlight. Harry occupied himself by kicking the blades of grass as he walked along. Mrs. Weasley screamed inward, air speeding its way down her throat. Harry looked up and saw a sickly green floating in the sky. He wiped his glasses clean of ash and moisture. Putting them back on, he saw the Dark Mark floating clearly above the Burrow.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was the first to run hysterically toward the house screaming, " BOYS!" but everybody else followed terrified right behind her. 


	19. Chapter 19

~19~  
  
Everybody hurled themselves anxiously towards the Burrow. Ginny slipped on the slick grass, and Hermione picked her up. Mrs. Weasley's face cried with desperation, and she slammed herself against the door. She sobbed as she slid to her knees. Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Figg, Charlie, and Percy stood ready with their wands. They moved Mrs. Weasley, out of the way, and cautiously opened the front door. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had stayed outside as advised.  
  
Everything in their house was ransacked. Doors everywhere left wide open, tables turned over, curtains ripped, even blood lay on the carpet. They gloomily looked around the house, only to find more disarray, but they could not find Fred or George.  
  
A trail of blood led them to find a dead Errol. Mr. Weasley sadly covered him with a cloth, and continued to look through the house. Fred and George weren't in their room, but ripped order forms and dysfunctional Canary Creams lay smashed on the floor.  
  
Hagrid's beady eyes filled with tears, Mrs. Figg put her hand to her mouth as her face sagged, and the Weasleys could do nothing but gaze desparately. The Death Eaters, or whoever had trashed the house, had stolen a few things- including a few of Harry's birthday presents and some of the Weasleys money. They seemed not to worry too much about this at the time though.  
  
Suddenly the five of them heard an outrageous scream from outside. They rushed down the stairs and outside to see Mrs. Weasley crying feverently as she held a shaken, but alive, Fred and George in her arms. 


	20. Chapter 20

~20~  
  
Everybody there regaled in a large, warm embrace; Fred and George amid all of them. Mrs. Weasley continually patted their hair and kissed their foreheads, tears streaming down her face.  
  
It turned out that Fred and George had gotten home after the Death Eaters, and had hidden in the bushes. They told their mother more than once that they were fine and there was no need to be so worrisome, but Mrs. Figg seemed to think otherwise.  
  
"It isn't safe here anymore. They know that Harry's here, and they will come back. We'll have to go to the only place they're too afraid to wonder," she stated as she curiously scanned the house with her eyes. Wrinkles formed on her forehead as she thought.  
  
Mr. Weasley tried to get inside and hide Errol before anyone came in, but Ginny caught a glimpse of him and went into hysterics. They then had a brief funeral procession for the bird, and buried him in the back yard. Then Harry realized that Hedwig wasn't there. They all insisted that Hedwig was much faster and smarter than old Errol, and must have flown away. This assured Harry somewhat, but he still worried. Crookshanks had occupied his time by gnome-hunting, and Hermione was cheerful to find him unscathed.  
  
They all packed their things uneasily quietly. Everybody's things seemed to be on the wrong floor, so everybody was floating to and fro to fetch misplaced items. Trunks placed neatly by the door, and after Mr. Weasley had just gotten done talking to somebody important in the fireplace, five familiar Ministry cars were parked outside to take Harry and everybody to Hogwarts. Even more cars showed up with Ministers who seemed all keen and scared as they walked toward the burrow, and took pictures of the Dark Mark floating above the Burrow.  
  
Hermione acted extra sensitive and caring towards everyone. This all seemed to worry her a great deal- not that it didn't worry anyone else. After everyone's things were in the cars, and they started driving away, Harry even saw Cornelius Fudge arrive at the hectic scene. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. The Weasleys had just tried to give him a nice birthday, but since he was prone to bring bad luck, their night ended in fear and sorrow.  
  
Ron uncomfortably twiddled his thumbs, and Harry felt like crying. He angrily slammed his head against the rain-covered window, and his scar seared with pain. 


End file.
